When we collide
by LostInFictionalWorlds
Summary: AU. Kurt is a New York writer living in London, UK. He loves his life, surrounded by everything he could want but is still a little...lonely? He's on his way home from work, sitting in a sea of awful London city traffic when he literally bumps into somebody who suddenly makes him a little less lonely.
1. Chapter 1

**When we collide**

**A/N- Just a little fluffy drabble, that's been playing on my mind for a while. I hope you enjoy.**

London is rainy today. Cold and rainy, with not a slither of sun or fluff of white cloud in sight. It is London after all, what more could Kurt expect from the place? Really?

Kurt blows out a small breath of steam onto the condensation soaked window, next to his seat in the back of the taxi, as the vehicle chugs its way through London's busy West end.

Kurt fingers the outlining of a face with dots for eyes and an upside down smile onto the glass as the car slows to a stop, and the driver upfront mumbles something under his breath. The traffic lights signal stop and flash to red, causing jams and build ups of transport all around them.

Kurt has never been fond of the heavy congestion or the fact that push bike and motor bike cyclists can weave freely in and out of static traffic.

It's the cyclists that get on his last nerve the most. Why choose to put yourself in danger by riding alongside 2000kg's of metal and rubber and exhaustion fumes? Why, when there are perfectly able pavements and designated cycle paths nearby?

Kurt remembers as a kid being in the back of his dads car, ambling through the quiet neighbourhood, probably hitting no more than 15mph when some crazy guy with an obvious need for speed and an even more obvious death wish came hurdling towards them on a rickety old push bike.

That had been a narrow but lucky escape for both parties but Kurt has never understood the enjoyment of riding a bike ever since, not when there are cars, and buses and taxis and chauffeurs. And trains are just fantastically efficient also.

Maybe it's because his dad is a mechanic and general motor enthusiast, he's been raised with a love for motor oil running through his blood, and always wanting the best tinted windows and alloy wheels available.

Its days like these when Kurt wonders why he ever left New York. He could be sitting in the exact same situation, surrounded by idiots with death wishes, however in just a slightly, possibly warmer, more familiar environment.

London, England has been Kurt's home for the best part of the past three years. His career had both brought him and left him here and although he has loved and cherished every opportunity he has been presented with in the capital of the United Kingdom, he's still… searching? Unsure? Lonely? Un-Familiar?

He's still not completely familiar with London, there's just something that doesn't shout _home _to him. He's made many friends here, through colleagues and neighbours and he loves the accent, _loves it, _and tries his best interpretation when alone in his flat, but Londoner's as great as they are, are still just not his people.

New Yorker's aren't really his people either, if you're going to get technical. He's an Ohioan born and raised, but New York was definitely where he grew, where he found himself after moving there for college to start the next phase of his life.

Three years down the line, Kurt -freshly graduated with an apprenticeship at after redirecting himself to the fashion editing and writing department under his belt- had been offered a nine month contract working in Europe, an offer he simply couldn't refuse.

To cut a long story short, two years after that jobs came flooding in and opportunities appeared from every which way he turned, except for the one that lead him back home to the states. And now, here he is sitting in an oddly scented taxi with an angry driver and his laptop-his life- tucked safe in its leather satchel at his side, whilst trying to make his way back home.

Today hadn't been very productive if Kurt was to be completely brutally honest. The words just hadn't came to him in that easy flow that they usually do, no matter how many coffees or muffins he had devoured from that little place he loves beside his office building, he just couldn't find his muse.

Normally when he gets like this, he takes time out and hides in a stuffy corner of the London Library, fiercely scribbling into a notepad. Or he takes a walk down by the river Thames, over the tower bridge and sits at a riverside café, staring at the screen of his laptop until the sky grows dark around him and his eyes become tired and blearily.

But today his line manager took one look at him and the words on his laptop screen and told him to take off an hour earlier. It's a Friday and honestly who doesn't like an early finish on a Friday?

Kurt had huffed out a defeated sigh and looked up guiltily. Holly, his manager turned dear friend-a bouncy blonde thirty something year old- has pretty much been his rock since arriving in London. She's American too but has travelled around here, there and everywhere ever since she was old enough to spread her wings and fly the nest.

Kurt rents his flat from Holly- who inherited it from her great aunt someone or other- which is how he is able to live in a such a nice part of the city, alone- mates rates and all. Holly has never liked the feeling of being too tied down in one place or to just one person, and although she has been working in the same place for a good while, she doesn't like living in the same place. She gets stir crazy, she likes jumping from place to place, trying out the hottest new hotel or taking up temporary three to six month leases on swanky apartments and town houses.

Kurt worries that she's going to leave soon, become bored of the same old day in- day out and pack up and leave somewhere more exciting, someplace exotic. And then he truly will be all alone.

Kurt knows that he can go back home. He can return to New York and join the line of one hopelessly talented fashion writer after another, or he can go back to Lima and move back in with his dad, maybe the local Newspaper needs a columnist?

Kurt knows that he doesn't have to be lonely, he knows that he doesn't have to be here, but there is just something that is still keeping him here. It's like he's just waiting for gravity to fall back into place around him, or waiting for something to just knock him off of his feet, like literally bang some new sense of hope and life into him (no not like that,) but he knows that for now, here is where he needs to be, here is where he needs to stay.

Holly values Kurt as a person and not just as en employee, she knows when he can give his best work and in the past has produced some damn good articles, but Holly knows him too well, she knows when his head is in the game and when it's not. Today it's not, and so she did what she thought all good managers should do, send Kurt home with a slight pat on the butt and a wink and told him to go and get laid.

Kurt didn't intend on getting laid tonight, or at all this weekend, or week or even month for that matter, well there were no plans for it anyway, and he wasn't hopeful that he was going to go out and make any plans either.

What he did intend on doing was going home (home being his rented trendy little Bayswater downstairs flat,) digging out whatever he can find from the back of his kitchen cupboards and freezer, pouring himself a double vodka and diet coke, and then curl up on the couch flicking through reality TV targeted channels until he falls asleep.

The car eventually starts to hurdle its way forward through fogs of exhaust smoke and chorus's of blaring car horns and angry noises. Kurt tries not to look at the meter up front, he could have walked or got on the tube or a bus, or a mixture of all three but it's Friday and it's raining and cold and his feet hurt and he's too tired to even continue to internally moan out excuses to himself. Kurt earns a good wage, he works hard for it, it's taken a lot of time for him to get here and if he wants to blow his earnings on taxi fares then that's up to him.

His only concern now is that his early finish is slowly disintegrating with every passing minute that he's stuck in this hellish traffic.

The rain starts to ease a little for a fraction of time and Kurt blinks out of the window, eagerly awaiting the view of his street as the taxi winds around corners and through alleyways.

He peers out of the window, and notices the top of end of his street coming into focus just as the heavens really start to open and giant pellets of rain thrash down onto windows.

Suddenly the car jerks and swerves slightly to the side, pulling to a screeching halt up on the curb with a short thud, the driver honks the horn in an alarming warning pattern. Kurt jumps. "What was that?"

The driver starts rolling down the window, his tongue working a million miles a minute and Kurt can only comprehend a few juicy cut off expletives, and then a very clear, "Bloody foreigners, we drive on the left over here. The LEFT! Right hand-bloomin' drive."

Kurt rolls down his window, sticking his head out to see what's going on. Rain drops splat off of his quiff and forehead annoyingly as he peers around blinking into the downpour, suddenly enraged when he sees the metal frame of a bike. His rage subsides when he see's what's lying on the ground next to the metal.

"What the hell-oh, oh my god, are you ok?"

Kurt immediately flings open his door, unbuckling his belt and half hangs out of the car staring out the rain sodden pavement.

There's a push bike lying on the curb, its handle bars a little bent and its front wheel punctured and dug just underneath the taxi's rear tyre. The bicycle's metal silver and blue frame is a little scratched and dinted but other than that it appears to be in a surprisingly ok condition.

Next to the bike a man is wobbly climbing to his feet- thank god. He starts brushing down his pants and reattaching his backpack. He's wearing elbow and knee pads and a bright blue safety helmet on his head strapped tightly under his chin and apart from looking a little ragged and soaked through he seems ok, if just a little shaken.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry sir. So sorry, I hope I haven't damaged your vehicle, that was completely my fault-" The cyclist starts rambling rapidly. And he's American. Oh.

Both Kurt and the taxi driver has gotten out of the vehicle at this point and is trying to pull the poor guy's bike out from under his car, whilst shaking his head and still muttering things. Kurt remains quiet whilst the driver starts giving the poor guy the low down on the high way code and where cyclists should be positioned and all of that palaver.

The cyclist hangs his head in shame, bobbing and nodding whilst he takes his battered bike from the driver and tries to correct the handlebars. The cute little bell that is nailed to the top is hanging off and Kurt as inconvenienced as this all is seems to be rather-amused by the whole thing, in a sweet sort of way.

He can't really see the cyclist's face, not with the rain and the helmet stuck to his head, but he can just make out a flop of dark curls pasted to his forehead just above a set of gorgeously dark eyelashes thick with rain drops.

Suddenly the guys lifts his eyes to Kurt's face, a shock of bright hazel speckled with green rims stares back at him. He tries his best to shrug his shoulders and offer Kurt his best rueful smile, but he looks so hangdog sad and Kurt can't help but find him endearing.

Once the driver is happy that his car is unscathed, he gives the guy one last warning point of a finger and then a strange back pat as if making sure the guy is sturdy on his feet and not going to sue him or anything and then gets back behind the wheel, slamming his door shut.

The cyclist tries to straighten his bike out but just can't seem to get the handle bars facing forward and the seat looks like it's a bit wobbly. He hangs his head and starts pushing his bike down the pavement walking along side of it with a very slight limp.

Kurt glances back at the driver who is glaring at him through the window, waiting for him to get back inside, his fingers clutching at the steering wheel impatiently.

Kurt remembers that day, years ago, with his dad in his car and the psychopath on the bike. As shocked and angry as his dad was, he was still ready to leap out of the car and run to the guys aid, his phone already in his hand ready to call for help.

"_No matter the story or situation or circumstance, stupid or not, everybody has a reason for being where they are and doing what they are doing. Everybody deserves to be helped Kurt, everyone needs a friend of some kind." _

His father's words still roll around clearly in his head, as if it were only yesterday.

"Hey, wait?" Kurt suddenly calls out towards the retreating cyclist and his pitiful bike. He digs his wallet out of his bag and gives some money to the driver, as he opens the door. "Thank you, I'll just walk from here, I can see my building."

The driver takes the money with a grumble and pulls off into the traffic. Kurt starts trotting along the pavement where the cyclist is looking back at him, completely bewildered and confused.

"Come with me? My flat is just over there," Kurt points down the street, "I'll make you a hot drink and you can call somebody to come and get you? You can't ride your bike and you look like limping." Kurt huffs out a breath, rain consistently cascading down his face and his shoulders.

The guy looks a bit shocked at first, then his eyes start shining and Kurt can't make out if it's just because of the rain or whether this guy just has really beautiful expressive eyes.

"O-oh, uh thank you so much, but um, I don't live that far away from here, I can just walk this back-"

As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder rumbles from up above out in the distance, the clouds fading a charcoal grey and the sky darkening all around them rapidly. Kurt wipes some water off of his face and the little bell fully falls off of the bike and lands on the ground, shattering with a clang. It's all rather pathetic.

"Well would you like to just come and wait the storm out?" Kurt offers instead.

The man says nothing, just gives his bike a look once or twice and then his lips starts quirking up into a very, adorable grin.

"Yes thank you, that would be great, only if you don't mind?" He says, his voice a little rasped. "Thank you so much, that's so kind of you."

Kurt nods and smiles back, tries to shield his eyes from the downpour and then starts walking again briskly. The guy follows him, pushing his bike as best as he can and grins gratefully when Kurt reaches out and helps him by taking hold of the other handle.

Together they trod quickly and silently down the street towards Kurt's humble abode.

Kurt cannot help, he just _can't, _help but take small peeking glances over the kitchen counter as he stirs the cocoa's.

Kurt's kitchen is shiny steel and silver and open plan, backing onto to a rather darling dining table and a cream fabric sofa and TV unit beyond that that makes up his living room.

Kurt bites his lip, cursing under his breath when he spills a little of the steaming hot brown liquid over the side of the mug.

The poor cyclist guy (Blaine- oh what a lovely name) is sitting on Kurt's sofa. Out in the hallway he'd taken off his boots and raincoat and Kurt had put them with his in the heated hanging closet to dry them out.

Underneath his raincoat Blaine is wearing the most precious ensemble- a navy blue pair of Capri pants, a polo t-shirt covered by a cotton cardigan and a little bowtie completing the look covered in some bold bright colourful pattern.

Kurt actually had to double take and then seriously refrain himself from asking the adorably dressed stranger if he wanted Kurt to take his clothes from him so that they could dry out.

Some situations require boundaries, boundaries that just can't be crossed too prematurely. He offered him a towel instead, which Blaine politely declined.

And then, _AND THEN _Blaine had unclasped his helmet and taken it off to rest up against the shoe rack to try and drip dry a little- in doing so revealing a wet mop of sticky glued together looking dark curly hair.

This guy obviously uses some kind of hair product and mixed with the pressure of the helmet and the downpour of rain those curls clearly do not want to be tamed. His dark wet hair clings to his scalp and forehead in a soggy yet unbelievably gorgeous mess, those long dark lashes thick with water droplets cling to his heat flushed cheeks.

Kurt had left the heating on before leaving the flat that morning and when he opened the door with Blaine in tow, the blast of heat from the radiators was like a welcoming wave of pure dry warmth from the freezing rain.

Kurt certainly had to force himself to turn the other way when Blaine started rubbing his fingers through his hair and shaking his head like a wet shaggy dog.

Oh god- Kurt wanted to lick the droplets off of the guys face.

So now Blaine sits on the edge of his sofa, frowning down at his phone in his hands whilst Kurt continuously stirs their drinks, staring at him bashfully from afar.

You will not hit on a poor hard done by stranger, Kurt. You will not. At least wait a little first. Geez.

Kurt comes into the room, placing the hot mugs down onto his coffee table just as Blaine grumbles something and throws his phone down to his lap.

Kurt bites his lip, momentarily internally arguing with himself over where to sit, finally deciding on the wooden rocking chair just to the side of the sofa where Blaine is sitting.

Blaine looks up at him, a small embarrassed looking smile on his lips and shrugs. "My battery is dead."

Kurt looks down at the phone in the poor guy's lap and just catches the silver glint of the 'Samsung' writing, he shrugs.

"Oh I would have offered you my charger but I have an iPhone."

Blaine smiles at this, his cute little dark triangular eyebrows raising as he does so. "Don't worry about it. Guess that's my fault for not joining the Apple army huh?"

This guy is actually pretty darn adorable.

"Do you- you could use my phone, you know to call somebody?" Kurt tries to hide his premeditated reaction as he waits for the response. Probably something like 'sure I'll call my wife' or worse 'Yes my boyfriend will be so worried.'

"Oh well I live on my own, and my family live in a different state. I'm still kind of new around here and don't know that many people, that well." The guy's smile is so sweet and endearing. "Like I said, I only live a few streets away, I'll be fine and I'll make tracks once the rain stops."

Kurt nods and grins by way of response. He doesn't trust what questions are going to pour from his mouth if he tries to talk.

There's a small awkward silence in which the two try not to steal glances at each other and sip from their mugs. "This is good cocoa, thank you."

Kurt swallows his mouthful and smiles, his tongue slipping out to lick away the remnants on his lower lip, he doesn't miss the way Blaine's eyes flash before flicking back down to his own drink.

"Oh thank you, and you're welcome. It's just instant powder I'm afraid, no special family recipe."

"It's still good. It's doing it's job." Blaine replies with a smile, his voice quiet. He undoes the buttons of his cardigan and rolls the sleeves up to his elbow.

Kurt glances outside of the window, needing somewhere to avert his gaze, save for the light spattering of dark hair on Blaine's ropey arms. The muscles must come from the cycling, Kurt presumes.

The rain is still fleeting down in his buckets, and the low rumbles of thunder can still be heard distantly. It looks like they're going to be here for a while.

"So uh," Kurt reaches forward and down, placing his mug back on the coffee table. He turns himself inwards, his body facing Blaine, and crosses his legs at the knee. "So are you ok? You looked like you were limping."

"Oh yeah, I think it was just the way I landed on my ankle. I'm fine, it doesn't hurt."

"What actually happened out there, how did we even hit you?"

Blaine's cheeks spread with pink adorably, he runs a hand through his drying frizz of curls and tries not to look at Kurt directly. "Actually I hit _you."_

Kurt stares at him incredulously, his lips slightly parted. Blaine cracks a smile and takes the silence as a sign to continue.

"I-well I said that I haven't been here that long, I just forgot the rules of the road over here and pulled out when I shouldn't have pulled out, and it also didn't help that I pulled out onto the wrong side of the road."

Blaine bites his lip, obviously trying to stifle a chuckle, but then when he see's Kurt's eyes glimmer and sparkle with amusement and also a hint of concern- he lets it go, and then Kurt is giggling with him too.

"Oh goodness, well at least there's no real harm done huh?"

"Tell that to my bike." Blaine laughs, gesturing outside where his poor bike is leaning up against the wall, battered and bruised.

It's only then when Kurt notices the slight faded watery red cut on Blaine's knuckles, mixed with a light swell of bruising. "Oh my gosh, you _are_ hurt, here let me get you something for that."

Kurt shrieks more than he says, standing up, all arms and legs ready to lunge into doctor mode. Blaine reaches for him and stills him with one hand around his wrist. His skin is soft and still a little cool from the rain but Kurt can feel the warm flesh pulsing underneath. Kurt feels tingly.

"Honestly its fine, I'm ok. Believe me I've had worse." Blaine smiles lopsidedly.

"You have?" Kurt asks, his face a mask of concern as he lowers himself back into his seat.

Blaine rubs a palm over his grazes, not even wincing. "Yeah, I uh, I used to be boxer, back in high school. Trust me, this is just artificial." Blaine says flexing his fingers. And suddenly Kurt is very, very, strangely turned on.

This cute fumbly, bumbly guy, who crashed into a moving vehicle and fell off of his bike and wears gorgeous ensembles- used to box, he used to fight?

"Oh wow, cool." Kurt says, because he just can't find anything else sensible to say. "So I uh, I cant help but notice that you don't sound like your from around these parts?"

"I could say the same about you." Blaine replies with a smirk.

Kurt nods and smiles. "You used to ride in the states then? Too good for the subway?" He teases, knowing that Blaine has picked up on the tone of his voice and the gentle smile in his eyes.

"Oh no, god no." Blaine laughs, shaking his head. "I wouldn't dream of trying to ride a bicycle in New York, I don't know why I thought London would be any different, guess I wanted to embrace something new. And I try to avoid the subway and the tube at all costs, FYI."

Kurt smirks and then straightens in his chair, it's like a flip has been switched inside of him. New York? My city? My love? You know it, you were there too?

"You-you're from New York? Me too, I left my roommates out there to move here a few years ago when I was offered a job." Blaine brightens at this.

"Oh- oh well no, I'm not from New York originally, but I studied there, college and then grad school. I moved there right after graduating high school in Ohio."

"Ohio?" Blaine nods, a cute little toothy grin playing at the corners of his lips.

"Oh my god, no way, me too!" Kurt is almost shouting, bouncing on the pad of his toes against the floorboards. He knows that he must control himself, but he's just too excited.

Somebody else from New York and also Ohio. Somebody, nice and seemingly sane and normal and attractive. Very attractive.

"Wow. Really? Whereabouts? I lived with my parents in Westerville until I started boarding at Dalton Academy- "

It's like a light bulb moment, like a little bell ringing from somewhere deep inside of him, alerting him to full wakefulness and excitement. Something he didn't know he needed or even wanted is now present filling him with a warmth and happiness he doesn't even understand.

Blaine just seems so strangely familiar, in more ways than one. It's rather lovely, actually.

They say that one act of random kindness at a time, could change the world. _Your world, your life? _Maybe_._

"Oh my god, _yes, _that's right." Kurt tries to choke back his giggle. "Which one was that again?"

"Regional's." Blaine answers, laughing too, his smile wide and bright, eyes warm and sparkling.

Thirty minutes later, separated by a bag of cool ranch Doritos, a pack of shortbread, sharing the sofa and stories from their high school's rival glee clubs- Kurt and Blaine are getting on a like a house on fire.

Kurt glances over his shoulder at the window, the raindrops are still running down the panes of glass leaving long smearing trails. The force is a little less powerful now, and the clouds aren't as angrily dark, but the weather is still 'indoors weather' all the same.

Kurt's smile is private as he turns back to Blaine, picking up their empty mugs and pushing himself up to stand. "Refill?"

When Blaine beams back up at him and nods- Kurt steps past him grinning. Their legs brush faintly and the expression on Blaine's face is much too charming. "So Blaine tell me, what did you _really _think of your competition that year?"

"So Kurt you say you're a writer, what do you write about?"

Fifty-five minutes later, they're sitting at Kurt's dining table with individual microwavable pizza pies that Kurt had dug out of the depths of his freezer.

Kurt cuts out a small slice and then picks it up with his hands- napkin at the ready- he smirks at the way Blaine is neatly using a knife and fork to cut his pizza into little chunks.

"Yeah, I'm a fashion journalist. I work for a London based fashion magazine, I write columns and attend cat walks and stuff-give my reviews, offer my advice on what to wear and not to, what's in and vital for when the seasons change." Kurt shrugs like he's said these words many times and they're wearing thin on his tongue.

"Wow, that's awesome. How did you get into that?"

"I interned with when I lived in New York, somewhere along the line I decided to switch from hands on the fabric to hands on the keyboard, and then I was offered the chance to travel around Europe for a while which lead me to here, to now."

Blaine nods, whilst eating his pizza, he seems genuinely impressed. He swallows his last bite, puts down his knife and fork on the side of his plate and takes a drink from his glass of soda that Kurt had put out for him.

"I have to admit, I can't say that I'm really surprised." Blaine says, looking around at the décor and the art and pictures hanging off of the walls. "You really do seem to have an eye for fashion and design. I would definitely take your advice."

Kurt blushes and preens, until Blaine focuses his gaze back on him and says, "And you look great too, if you don't mind me saying. Really great."

Kurt blushes harder, ducking his face to avert Blaine's dazzling whiskey hued eyes. Finally working up the nerve to say something, he looks up to find Blaine fidgeting with his hands in his lap.

"You don't need any advice. Honestly? Your outfit is divine."

Blaine smiles all the way up to his ears, so much that his eyes crinkle at the corners and almost disappear. Insanely cute. "I mean you're wearing a bowtie. Any guy who can pull off a bowtie in everyday dress, has a vote in my books."

"Oh my gosh," Blaine giggles, "You should see my bowtie collection. It's beyond ridiculous. I think I have an addiction."

"Oh do tell." Kurt grins, standing to pick up their empty plates. Blaine bats his hands away, piles up the dishes and heads towards Kurt's kitchen area.

Kurt trails behind him, and points out the dishwasher, nicely disguised as an ordinary wooden panelled kitchen cupboard. Before Blaine can launch in to his deepest darkest secrets of fashion and shopping- two of Kurt's most favourite things- Kurt opens up his refrigerator peers inside and says, "Do you like cheesecake?"

Blaine looks back at him over his shoulder, his eyes wide and alight. He looks delighted. "Oh but of course, It's only like one of my most favourite things."

"Ok so you love bowties and Ralph Lauren, you're an Ohioan/New Yorker and you're new around here. You love musicals and can play the piano and the guitar pretty much with your eyes closed. I get the impression that your line of work is somewhere in or around that area. Am I warm?"

Blaine grins around his forkful of lime and white chocolate cheesecake, he chews quickly, nodding slightly and plunges straight back down for another piece with his fork. Kurt playfully twangs his fork with his own, battling for dominance over who gets what section and they both chuckle. It's sickly sweet- not just the flavour of the desert.

"Yes, sort of." Blaine finally says, when they both settle back onto the couch, nibbling at their giant forkfuls. "I um, I produce musicals, I co-write and I sometimes help out in the orchestra pit too-"

Kurt tries not to choke as he sits up. "No way freaking way?"

"Yes way." Blaine smiles. "I was recently given the chance to come and assist on the West End and I jumped at it." Kurt tries not to flail. And fails.

"Oh my god. Which one? I go and see a west end show every few weeks or so." Blaine smiles and then squirms a little under Kurt's piercing exciting gaze. His cheeks and neck flush adorably as if he's embarrassed about what he's about to say next.

"Well back in New York, my last job I worked on was um, I was involved with creating the musical production of Disney's Hercules for Broadway and they asked me if I would-" Blaine stops as Kurt starts bouncing on his knees on the sofa, even causing Blaine to jiggle a little beside him with the movement.

"I've seen that show! I went to see it on its opening night over here just a few weeks ago. My god, it's amazing! So clever and unique and brilliant and oh my god! You brought it over here?"

Blaine can't help but laugh at the expression on Kurt's face, like a kid on Christmas morning. He nods, "Yeah, I'm part of that production, and I even had a little cameo-"

"Oh my god, have I seen you in a toga?" Kurt is almost screeching and Blaine's facial expressions probably couldn't get any more amused/entirely humbled. His eyes are shining back at Kurt with a sort of warm fondness and Kurt can feel his knees weaken, even though he's perched on top of them.

Both men are laughing and chattering way too much, too loudly and enthusiastically to notice that the weather outside the window is starting to lull and slow it's frightful pace. The rain becoming no more than a slight gentle patter and the thunder seems to be long gone, as the sky darkens to a deep blue, ready for night time to settle in.

"Do you want a drink? I have vodka?" Kurt suddenly says, when his excitement calms. "It's a Friday night after all, and it was on my agenda anyway."

Blaine looks like he's just been asked if he would like a million dollars or a lifetime supply Brooks Brother's fashion accessories. He's about to open his mouth when he looks back at the bay window, and frowns.

"Oh," Blaine looks down at his wrist watch and Kurt's face falls when he realizes what is happening. "Oh geez, look at the time, my goodness I've taken up most of your evening."

"Oh, no honestly it's fine, it's been a pleasure. You could stay for a drink if you wanted?" Kurt tries to disguise the disappointment in his voice. Blaine looks conflicted.

"Thank you for the offer. Thank you for everything, but I really should get back and see what the damage is to that hunk of junk." Blaine smiles politely, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He slowly gets up from the sofa and starts gathering his things.

Why won't he stay? Because he's a stranger, oh yeah that's right. Suddenly the weight of everything comes crashing down on Kurt, like he'd totally forgotten that he'd only met Blaine just a couple of hours ago.

Kurt never really does things like this, he's always so careful and guarded. But Blaine had seemed genuine and sweet, and in real need of shelter and a slice of cheesecake, regardless of what he was taught about stranger danger when he was a boy.

And then something else hits Kurt. The sudden feeling that he actually just doesn't care. He's a big boy, able to make his own choices and presumptions and he feels proud of himself for taking a step out of the safety zones of his life.

He doesn't care that he doesn't know Blaine- all that well. He cares that he may not get the chance for Blaine to become more than just a stranger. But he's asked, he's done his part, he can't do more than that.

Out in the hallway once Blaine is all dressed back up in his outside gear, now dry and toasty warm, Blaine tries to adjust his bike enough to get it to move so that he can walk it back home. He turns to Kurt, his safety helmet, tucked under his arm and an unreadable twinkle in his eyes.

"Thank you Kurt, so much. It was so nice of you to help me out like this. I appreciate it immensely." Kurt just nods and smiles and watches when Blaine pulls out a card from his back pocket. It's a little soggy and smudged but still readable. Its Blaine's business card, with his contact information printed boldly along the middle. "Maybe you could stop by the Adelphi Theatre one time, and I could show you around, as a-as a thank you?"

Kurt takes the card, grinning though disappointed that Blaine is leaving- he can't help it. "That sounds great, I may just do that."

After a string of awkward smiles and head nods, last minute glances over the shoulders and wiggles of fingers Blaine leaves, pushing his bike along the water pebbled streets.

Kurt slumps back against the inside of his door, huffing out a sigh. He has two things on his mind. Blaine and Vodka.

Twenty minutes later, Kurt pulls the drapes closed and turns on the side table and wall lamps. His living room really is a cosy little space, especially like this, during the dark cold nights with scented candles glowing along the hearth and the heating turned up to max.

Kurt flops down on to the sofa, changed into sweat pants and a hoody and a freshly poured Vodka lemon and lime-double- he settles in for the night.

There's a knock at the front door, it sounds almost timid, like a shy almost unsure knock. Kurt puts down his glass on a coaster and shuffles over to the door, grumbling something about campaigners or something or other.

Without looking through the peephole he pulls open the door, ready to give whoever it is his best rehearsed speech of 'No thank you, not today.'

You can imagine the look of surprise and sheer joy and delight on his face when he sees Blaine standing there.

"Blaine?"

"Hi." Blaine grins bashfully, his eyes quickly scan up and down Kurt's body, obviously noticing his outfit change, it's a look that is not too far away from completely appreciative until he tries to shake it off. "I um, I think I lost my house key when I- when we um, you know-"

Kurt's shoulders slump with relief and he can't hide the small smile painted on his face, he reaches out to tug at Blaine's wrists hoping that it's not too forward for him to do, but kind of assuming what Blaine had returned for.

"I hope you don't mind, it's just I don't really know where else to go. Could-could I maybe use your phone to call my landlord or a locksmith? Please?" Kurt keeps smiling and nods whilst he tugs Blaine all the way inside and closes the door. He sits him down on the sofa and hands him his phone.

"Call whoever you need to. What a rough bout of luck you've had today huh?" Kurt says, his eyes soft and lower lip jutting out a little.

Blaine fishes a tiny little contact book out his bag and pauses before dialling a number. He looks up at Kurt and his eyes are sparkling gorgeously, glinting off of the tiny flames glowing all around in little coloured ceramic cups. "I don't know, I wouldn't say that it's been _all _bad luck for me today."

Kurt melts, tries to control the pitch of his voice. "Do you need anything else?"

Blaine eyes Kurt's glass fizzing with bubbles and a wedge of lemon slid onto the rim of the glass set down on the coffee table and grins, sheepishly. "Did you say something about vodka?"

"Hummel, Kurt Hummel." Blaine says thoughtfully and Kurt tingles at the way his full name sounds rolling off of Blaine's tongue. "Yup I've definitely read your stuff before, I recall your name. You're a great journalist. Honestly you're one of the few columnists of that magazine that I can understand. Everybody else just uses an extent of posh sounding vocabulary and hopes that it makes sense."

Kurt blushes, giggles and nods, the pattern of all three reminding him of a pathetic schoolboy routine. When he can contain himself he builds up the courage to ask what he's been wanting to ask for most of the time he's been with Blaine.

"And you're Blaine Anderson right? That's you?"

Blaine takes a sip from his glass and nods, letting Kurt chirp away excitedly. Kurt slaps his thigh. "I knew it, I thought it was you. When you left I racked my brains trying to workout where I recognised you from and I now know that I've seen your name and face printed in like what? Four, five, maybe six musical theater programs?"

Blaine smiles around his glass, little dimples peeking out around the edges. "My goodness you really do go to the theater a lot don't you?"

Kurt nods a little bashfully, and then says quietly, "Well, I sometimes write reviews for shows, as a little on the side thing or if I'm asked to by my boss."

"You're a critic?" Blaine's eyebrows shoot up and Kurt bites his lip, trying not to laugh at the look on Blaine's face.

"No, not really. Just sometimes the magazine I work for has a spread about musical theater and all of the different elements to it, and I get asked to write a column as part of it. It's fun I like doing it."

"So you review the costume design or-"

"Usually, just everything as a whole. But between you and me, I would love to delve into the world where music and theater and fashion mix. I'd love to write a piece about how production costumes can be inspired and transformed by everyday catwalk and high street stuff you know?"

Blaine barely has a chance to smile and nod before Kurt, scoots up on to his knees, almost no space between their legs, with his eyes wide and bright.

"Like for instance, Hercules right? Perfect example of exploring ancient Greek toga's and robes and how we can incorporate them with today's on-trend must haves. Imagine a world where musical theater geeks and high class fashion snobs plus your everyday run of the mill Joe-public are all knowingly or blissfully unknowingly wearing the same thing. It would be like closing the divide between two rival industries. Like the Capulet's and the Montague's."

Kurt stops suddenly to catch a breath, he snaps his mouth closed and hazards a glance at Blaine, like really at him, searching his face for any sign of 'oh my god, get me out of this wacko's house now.'

He scratches the back of his neck, "I uh, I'm sorry, I guess I've completely lost you now huh? Just ignore me, um all of that."

Kurt expects a number of reactions from Blaine, judging by the blank expression on his face and those beautiful honeyed eyes all deep and liquid like and _lost. _

What he doesn't expect is for Blaine to start burst out laughing joyously and almost infectiously, closing the space between them by clasping at Kurt's shoulders and saying, "Oh my god. I am so glad that you have just said that. I have been thinking about proposing an update the costume department for months. It's time to cause a little stir, a little speculation. It's what gets people talking and curious asses on seats."

Kurt actually feels his heart crack open a little bit, immediately filling with joy and warmth and contentment.

It's getting close to nine pm and Kurt and Blaine have just settled their arrangement on Kurt coming down to the theater sometime soon, for 'research' in order for him to take some notes about his dream fashion and musical theater article.

He's going to tell Holly all about it on Monday, or most likely call her up and squeal excitedly when Blaine leaves. He knows that she'll be on board and will do anything to try and support him, in more ways than one.

So maybe he'll spend an hour or so back stage and then maybe he and Blaine can grab a coffee, or dinner, or drinks, or all three and carry on Kurt's research in a more intimate yet still strictly professional manner.

He's not fooling anybody really, to be honest. But he believes that he has found his muse, if just for a while.

Kurt has just flicked on the TV for some background noise when he gets a text message from an unknown number. He opens it up and starts reading, smiling distractedly as Blaine pours them both a fresh a drink from the bottle and mixers that had been brought into the living room earlier, along with a plethora of snacks and dipping sauces.

"Oh it's for you," Kurt exclaims, handing Blaine the phone. "It's from your landlord."

Blaine takes the phone and skims over the message. "Oh no, he says that he has also lost his spare key and that the locksmith is coming out tomorrow morning. No sooner." Blaine bites his lip and hands Kurt the phone back. "Oh god this is a nightmare."

"Hey," Kurt soothes, reaching out a hand to rub up and down Blaine's muscular upper arm in a gesture he hopes is portrayed as friendly and not that he just wants to cop a feel. "You-you can- I mean if you want to- you can stay here you know? Like on the couch until the morning, it's no problem?"

Kurt watches the way Blaine's brow furrows, he can see the way he's thinking things over in his head. Oh god has he just made the wrong move, that was weird of him to offer a stranger right?

Blaine's upper lip tugs up at the corner and his eyes glimmer as he focuses his attention dead on Kurt's face. The visible transformation is almost like magic, beautiful magic. "You-you'd do that for me? You don't mind?"

Kurt exhales in short silent huffs and smiles, shaking his head. "Of course not. You don't seem to have too many other options, and it's not as if we're complete strangers still right?"

Blaine's smile is breathtaking. "Right, sure."

"You know, I forgot to ask you. Where is your bike now?"

Blaine grins and he looks like a naughty kid that has done something he's very proud of but knows he would probably get scolded for. "I left it outside my place. Hopefully it will get stolen."

They both giggle and Kurt adds a little boldly, "Oh good, no more near death experiences, that way you may be around a little longer then."

"Hopefully." Blaine responds quickly and his eyes are twinkling.

"Come on," Kurt stands, tugging gently at Blaine's hand to pull him up. "I'll get you something to change into and you can freshen up. I think I have a spare toothbrush too."

Kurt strides forward, leading the way once Blaine is up and following him. He's too far ahead for Blaine to see his bright cheesy grin and flushed cheeks, and Kurt would need eyes in the back of his head to have had caught Blaine fist bump the air victoriously.

Kurt is flicking through TV channels, sipping casually from his glass, looking for something to watch as he waits for Blaine to re-join him. He's already dug out fresh sheets and pillows and a duvet from the linen closet and they're folded nicely on the arm chair ready for Blaine to use later.

He can smell the waft of his own brand of soap and shampoo and the slight aroma of fresh mint as he hears the bathroom door click open from just down the hall followed by soft footfalls.

Blaine appears in the doorway just within Kurt's eye sight, his curls obviously towel dried and sticking up all around his head. Kurt can imagine his fingers running through that hair, styling it in his own way.

He's wearing one of Kurt's old white sponsorship t-shirts and a pair of chequered pajama pants. The t-shirt pulls tight over his chest and arms and hangs a little low over his hips, whilst the pants are so long that he's had to fold them up a couple of times at the bottom.

Kurt has to sit on his free hand to stop from fanning himself. The sight and the freshly clean smell of Blaine shuffling forward in his clothes are just down right _hot. _

He sits down beside Kurt and Kurt does not move when a small slither of Blaine's leg folds over the top of his. Kurt hands him his drink and they settle into a pleasant silence, occasionally giggling at whatever is on the TV.

A short while later Blaine sets his glass down on the coffee table, he turns and faces Kurt. Kurt sees him looking out of the corner of his eye, but doesn't move, not yet, he lets Blaine look for just a little while longer. The thought thrills him.

"You know," Blaine finally mumbles, low and quiet. His voice is like a husked rasp that sends shivers though the short hairs on Kurt's forearms and the back of his neck. Kurt turns to him, smiling shyly, waiting for him to continue. "You've been awfully kind towards a stranger today, I don't know if I could ever show my appreciation enough."

Kurt could brush it off, could say 'its fine, no problem' or anything of the like. But instead he huddles a bit closer, knees pulled to his chest and says, "You trust very easily, I could have been an axe murderer-" His voice is teasing, blue-green eyes shining in the dim of the candle light around them.

"You still could be or me-" Blaine fires back, grinning and it's all Kurt can do not to throw himself at him, laughing giddily. "Seriously, I seen the sincerity in your eyes, I knew you just wanted to help."

Kurt steadies himself, mentally prepares and practically forces out the next words before he chickens out. "Honestly, I also wanted a friend. London-as big and amazing and full of talented beautiful people as it is- can be pretty lonely. I sometimes feel like a fish out of water and when I heard you speak, you just sounded like _home _you know? And I kind of got the impression that you feel that way too."

"You know Kurt. You are one, uniquely, interesting wonderful person and I am so glad that I collided into _you_ today."

It's close to midnight and they're standing facing each other in the middle of Kurt's dark living room. Blaine's makeshift bed is made and ready for him on the sofa but Kurt seems reluctant to leave. There's only one wall light left on now, over by the far wall, and the switch is by the door.

"So um, if you get cold, there should be more sheets in the linen closet out in the hall, or I could get you another pair socks?" Blaine smiles and shakes his head.

"I think I'll be fine, thank you though. I'm still feeling a little… flushed." Kurt gulps.

"O-ok, well um, help yourself to anything in the kitchen or you know you can watch TV or something. I uh, I'll probably be up around Eight or something in the morning, if you like pancakes I still have some-"

Blaine's warm lips press to Kurt's cheek, shushing him effectively with a little 'eeep'. Kurt can feel the slight brush of whiskers from Blaine's five o'clock shadow wisp against his cheek bones and then slightly lower.

Kurt closes his eyes, it takes him all the self restraint that he possesses to not reach out and pull Blaine flush to him, or even turn his head and let their lips meet, flesh on flesh. The small chaste kiss, shakes Kurt to his very core, ignites him and wakes up his tired body in ways that he knows he will NOT be sleeping for a while.

It ends all too soon for Kurt's liking. Blaine pulls back and Kurt notices that his eyes are closed too. He looks blissful, peaceful almost, and then those dark lashes blink open and Kurt notes even in the darkness how dark and dilated Blaine's pupils have become.

Kurt slowly, regrettably starts to back away, his fingers flexing at his sides, desperate to reach out and pull Blaine with him. "Good night Blaine, I hope you sleep well."

"Goodnight Kurt. Sweet dreams." Blaine's voice sounds strained and for whatever reason Kurt's aches just a little when he shuts off the light, plummeting Blaine into darkness and walking off toward his room.

Kurt leaves his bedroom door open as he steps inside, he waits, standing by his bed and listens for the sound of the slight squeak in his sofa's springs, but it doesn't come.

He waits and waits, he curls his hands at his sides, refrains from reaching out and cupping what's happening at the front of his sweat pants and breathes deeply.

Oh what the hell?

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?" Blaine's reply is instant, just as loud as the call and just as sure.

Kurt clenches his eyes closed. "You're-you are gay right?"

"Yes, I am." He can hear the smile in Blaine's voice, Blaine's beautiful smile.

"And you're um- single?" He has to be sure.

"Yes." Blaine's voice sounds louder, clearer, closer.

Kurt bites his lip to try and stop his ecstatic sob/giggle from escaping. This is it.

"Well what are you waiting for? Get your ass in here."

There's a thud against the floorboards and then Blaine is standing in the doorway in seconds. His eyes like molten lava painted dark gold.

"Hi," he says breathlessly.

"Hi," Kurt giggles back, slowly back stepping towards his bed, grinning when Blaine slowly starts to inch forward, following him.

"Now it's time for me to knock _you, _off of your feet."

_Fin…_

**A/N- Like? Please do review if you can. Thank you.**

**Will there be a part two? Maybe?…Maybe not? ;)**


	2. Part 2- Knocked off of your feet

**When we collide-part 2 (knocked off your feet)**

**A/N- Oh get your minds out of the gutter! Haha ;) **

**As requested by many of you, here it is. **

**Thank you and I hope you enjoy.**

**Flashbacks are in italics, just for a bit of fun. Warnings for smut… obvs ;)**

Sometimes London actually has nice warm and dry summers, which boast cloudless light blue skies, birds chirping, kids laughing and the street performers come out in force.

Kurt likes to take advantage of this and when he can he chooses to walk to and from work.

He's recently found a lovely little route which only takes around twenty minutes to get home from the office, which leads him through an epically sized visually wonderful park.

The exit of the park leads right to the corner of Kurt's street which houses the most delicious little bakery, Kurt has plans for that bakery, he only hopes it will pay off.

Kurt has a spring in his step most days now, but there's just something cheerful about today in particular, about strolling home from work at a fairly reasonable hour, with his jacket hanging from his shoulders and his shirt sleeves rolled up his forearms, a pair of Ray bans perched on his nose.

He grabs a can of soda from a vendor as he walks -there's a flurry in his stomach and he hopes the fizz will help to settle it- whilst passing an array of groups of people all happily ambling by.

There are dog walkers, harried and frantic chasing after their beasts, students with headphones strapped to their heads, laden with bags and books, a group of joggers running in perfect sync. Skaters wearing knee pads and chin guards, shoppers and day carers with a brood gathering behind them.

And then there's the-

"Hey, watch it-" Kurt snaps as he leaps from the pathway and onto the grass bed to the side just as a cyclist hurtles by.

This guy obviously means business with his luminous Lycra sports gear, hard helmet and safety pads strapped to most of his joints, he's not even looking where he's going, with his head angled down, his eyes fixed to his hands gripped around the curved metal handlebars.

"_Now it's time for me to knock you, of off your feet."_

The guy doesn't even look back over his shoulder, just powers on forward with an attempted warning ding of his bell.

Kurt shakes of the slight dizzied shock, glares at the back of the retreating bike and hops back onto the walk way.

He's a little miffed and his heart is still slightly racing but he can't help but smirk to himself as he carries on his journey- hopefully collision free.

Cyclists are not his favourite type of people, they're annoying and dangerous and a little inconsiderate and Kurt just still generally doesn't _get _them, or their need for push pedalling their way around hazardously.

But each to their own, and Kurt is not here to judge, only to complain.

They're not _all _bad of course. No, some cyclists don't even call themselves 'proper' cyclists and just so happen to have a spontaneous streak which leads them to near death experiences.

But as it happens, near death experiences and making nice with a complete stranger can also lead to the first day of the rest of their lives…

"_Can't wait." Kurt drawls as he spreads himself out on his bed. Blaine gets to him in two large strides and crawls up and over, straddling his hips. He leans down, digs down to the sheets and entwines his fingers together around the back of Kurt's neck and pulls their faces together. _

"_Me neither," Blaine breathes, his breath a delicious hot rush against Kurt's lips. "I don't think I could have lay out there all night, knowing you were in here, in bed." Kurt pants and writhes beneath him. "But I think I'm too much of a gentleman to invite myself into your bed."_

"_How noble." Kurt murmurs and then hums as Blaine nips at his jaw._

"_Only as noble as you my Good Samaritan." _

_This kiss is so different from the one before out in the living room, though as chaste and minimalist as it was, Kurt could feel the desperation in Blaine's lips as they pressed against his cheek and then dropped a tad lower before being torn away._

_This kiss, though eager as it is, is full of heat and promise and Kurt can actually feel the sense of relief and satisfaction in the warm and soft press of Blaine's lips to his. _

_Blaine only lasts a few seconds before running his tongue over the seam of Kurt's lips. Kurt opens up willingly, giving Blaine any access, any access or permission Blaine wants at all, he has it. _

_Blaine pulls back only to start brushing open mouthed kisses down Kurt's jaw and collarbone, unzipping the hoodie as he goes and sliding it from Kurt's shoulders and onto the floor._

_Blaine groans as Kurt's chest is revealed and sucks a path between his pectoral muscles down to his naval and then back up again, licking a circle around one nipple, teeth just very slightly grazing._

"_God, you're gorgeous." Blaine breathes, "How long were you gonna make me wait for this huh?" _

_It's a question that obviously doesn't need answered as Blaine moves back up and kisses Kurt again, over and over hard and perfect and making the most delicious moans and grunts and pants into his mouth. _

_Kurt pulls the hem at the back of the t-shirt Blaine had borrowed from him and draws it up and off of his body. _

_Kurt sneaks a glance at Blaine's olive skinned broad chest, subtle abdominal muscles and trim waist as he arches back, giving Kurt space to take the shirt off. _

"_I was being polite, and respectable," Kurt mutters in between kisses, obviously deciding to answer Blaine's question from before. "Can't just make a move on a poor stranger right away." _

_Blaine giggles, and the sound is sexy as hell, deep and low and both adorable and a turn on, Kurt lifts his hips instinctively, happy to find to that he's not the only one who's pants are becoming a little tight- and Blaine's were too big to begin with._

"_Thank you," Blaine says as he drops a kiss to Kurt's jaw, "Thank you for taking pity on this pathetic stranger, thank you for being so lovely," His fingers tickle their way down to the v-shape of Kurt's hips and lower abdomen and start playing with the cord of his sweats, "Thank you for letting me in to your pants." He mumbles, hushed and rasped as he shuffles backwards down the bed. "I'm sure I could think of a way, or two, or three or ten to repay you."_

_Lovely, fumbly, bumbly, talented musical producer Blaine is also an absolute sexual flirtatious tease- and Kurt loves it. _

_God he could write trilogies about what this man makes him feel. _

_Kurt gasps, his hips thrust up and it's all he can do to not pull his own pants down himself and push Blaine's face flush down to his groin. _

_Instead Kurt leans up slightly on his elbows, reaches over to his nightstand drawer and pulls out a condom packet and bottle of lubricant. _

"_I'm not usually tit for tat," He groans, handing Blaine the items and laying back down, "but show me, show me now, please." _

_Blaine flashes a grin, pulls Kurt's pants all the way down and off and wastes no time in taking a hold of Kurt's dick tightly in his hand, breathing out mutters and moans appreciatively as he does so. _

_Kurt's knees go weak at the feel of Blaine gripping him, hot and hard and can't help but whimper when he starts slowly pumping up and down. Next comes the lube, a small cool trickle which dribbles down between his thighs, Blaine widens his hold, letting the lubricant spread and then starts sliding up and down again, tight and perfect. _

_Blaine uses his free hand to reach up and tweak gently at Kurt's nipples, one and then the other, smiling at the sounds that Kurt is making underneath him. _

_By the time Kurt gets louder and louder Blaine uses his thumb to press against the slit at the head of his dick, bringing the tiny slick beads of pre-come into the mix._

_Kurt keeps his eyes fixed on Blaine the whole time, blinking up at him through his soft brown lashes, his fingers curling into sheets by his sides as Blaine works him over and over. _

_When Blaine stops, Kurt is almost about to let out a pitiful whimper until he hears the crinkle of foil being torn open and he almost comes from the noise and anticipation alone. _

_Blaine drops down, and very quickly places a fleeting kiss to the head of Kurt's thick, flushed cock, before pulling back and sliding the latex down on to him. Kurt groans, deep and loud and dirty, and Blaine wastes no time in folding his lips over Kurt's shaft and sliding all the way down to the base, humming as he goes. _

_He does this again and again, up and down, tantalising and relentless until finally he takes Kurt deep in his throat and holds him there whilst he uses his free hand to cup Kurt's balls, one after the other, rolling them in his fingers and squeezing gently._

_The man's a freaking pro. _

_Kurt feels boneless, light headed and completely carefree as he positively melts back into his mattress, his body overcome with heightened sensations and arousal. _

_Blaine pops back up for air, pulls off with a wet gasp and presses kisses to Kurt's flat stomach, the slick head of Kurt's cock nudging against Blaine's chin, smearing clear fluid in a messy trail. _

"_So big Kurt, you're so big and beautiful, all of you is beautiful, and you taste incredible." _

_He sinks back down again and Kurt cries out, his back arching and legs bowing. Eventually the once simmering feel now turned to an almighty heave and pull in the pit of his stomach becomes too much and Kurt keens, unable to hold back for much longer. "Bl-Blaine, I'm-I'm gonna, I'm close Blaine-"_

"_Do it," Blaine hisses, coming back up to the top but not off completely, the vibrations of Blaine humming and talking around his dick is just too much. "Wanna feel it, wanna feel you come in my mouth. Come for me."_

_And Kurt doesn't need to be told twice. No way._

_He comes hard, with a high pitched whine into the condom against Blaine's tongue, trying terribly hard not to thrust up into Blaine's mouth and choke him. His vision almost blacks out and the sweat on the back of neck turns cold and tingly until he starts to float back down to earth._

_Blaine milks him through it, moaning and whispering encouragingly until Kurt starts to soften in his mouth and he pulls off, fingering off the condom and tying it at the end. _

"_Wow. Jesus." Kurt breathes, an arms flung over his eyes as his chest heaves. "Thank you." _

_Blaine reaches down and carefully discards the used condom on the floor, he pulls back up and immediately starts kissing Kurt all over his face, moving his arm away and lacing their fingers and hands together by his head. "Nah-ah, that was a thank you for you." _

"_I can't feel my legs." Kurt responds breathlessly. _

_Blaine smirks, "That was the whole point, remember?" He kisses him again, "To knock you off of your feet, so to speak." _

_Kurt smiles, curls his fingers through Blaine's hair and starts sliding his body downward, wriggling like a snake under Blaine's body. He can feel Blaine's hardness through the thin fabric of the PJ pants and fully intends to do something about it._

"_But I was already lying down." Kurt murmurs teasingly against Blaine's bare stomach, kissing downwards and nudging at the elastic waistline of his trousers with his nose. _

_Kurt can feel Blaine's laugh rumble up through him before he hears it, and it warms him to his very core. _

_He's had one night stands before, but he gets a very clear vibe that this is not what this is, this is going to continue, this is going to last._

"_Well then," Blaine husks, and then much to Kurt's annoyance Blaine hops off of him and the bed swiftly. "Let's move this somewhere, where you're not lying down hmm?"_

_And then Kurt is being yanked up and off of the bed to his feet, with laughs and kisses breathed into his mouth and onto his skin, hands warm and soft touching and holding him everywhere._

_He truly does feel light on his feet, and if Blaine wasn't practically lifting him up off of his toes, dragging him towards the bedroom wall then he actually would fall down._

_Kurt is sensing a pattern here, and loves it. _

_A promise lingers in the heated air between them, a promise laced with more and possibly a promise which extends far longer than this day only. _

At the bakery, Kurt grins as he is called forward to the counter to collect his pre-made order.

"Mr Hummel?" A nice little old lady asks in a cockney accent, wearing an pink apron covered in flour smudges and her greying hair up in a netted bun. She opens up the large square white box in her hands against the counter top, "Please check your order sir, before taking it away. Your request was quite the task, but we did it."

She sounds and looks just as proud, Kurt nods his thanks gratefully, peers down into the box, his eyes lighting up and his smile almost meeting his eyes at what he sees.

In the box is a huge cheese cake, toffee flavoured with a cream topping and a tiny figurine of a bicycle balanced at the edge. Also very impressively and super skilfully drizzled in a fine chocolate syrup are some words, small but still readable.

'B, _On the day we both knocked each other off of our feet, and have continuously been swept up since, and forevermore. All my love K x ' _

"Thank you, thank you so much, it's perfect." Kurt beams as he places the money on the counter and takes the box.

"You're very welcome sir, anytime, and I hope you and your loved one have a very happy anniversary." The lady smiles as she waves and takes the money.

"Thank you, it's our third actually." Kurt answers and then unable to stop himself adds, "Believe me, I'll be back, and maybe –hopefully, after tonight- next time, the request may be a little more 'marital' themed."

Fin…

**A/N- Thanks so much for the love of this verse, please review if you can. **


	3. part 3- The Impact

**When we collide- part 3- The impact. **

_***Anon said- Ima just come right out and say it- I wanna know what happened up against that wall yo! Thank YOU!**_

**A/N- Obviously, as you all will hopefully gather, these added extras are a little out of sequence of sorts, but the flashbacks (in italics) are always back from that first night together in Kurt's bedroom, on the first day they met.**

**I'm sure you'll be able to figure out and keep up : ) Thank you for all the love for these two. **

Kurt hums along to himself as he potters about his flat, his ear buds playing Disney's Hercules the musical's sound track into his ears as he goes. There's an old cloth hanging out of his back pocket and a duster gripped in his hand as he whips around, imitating steps from the stage performance by memory.

It's his monthly Sunday afternoon cleaning session, when he takes precious time out of his day off and sees to the chores that have been neglected for other much better and exciting things.

Eventually he ends up in his bedroom, plugging in the vacuum cleaner and Hoovers down his Artisan rug. Lastly stepping up to the far back wall, he fans the feather duster over and up and back again, in large sweeping circles. He makes sure to catch all the dust bunnies as they fall down from the wooden edge of a wonkily positioned hanging picture frame.

Kurt straightens the frame, stands back and grins to himself, a delicious stream of memories flooding his brain, all mental images and aching muscle memories playing back to back in the forefront of his mind.

It's been a little over a month now since that night, that day when he collided into a bashful, bumbling, musical nerd of a beauty which is Blaine Anderson. Blaine a fellow Ohioan, also living and working in London, England. Blaine who has now become a close friend, and better yet fantastic lover and the most loveliest, sweetest boyfriend that Kurt could ever dream of.

Kurt runs his fingers over the magnolia rough painted patterns of his wall, he can still feel the tingle over his back and shoulders, remembers the feel of Blaine's mouth and hands pressed all over him, up against this very wall.

"_Bla-oh my god-Blaine, it's supposed to be your-Jesus-your turn now."_

_Blaine has Kurt pinned up against the far bedroom wall, hands above his head held firmly at the wrists by one of Blaine's hands and his other hand securing one of Kurt's gloriously long legs around his waist._

_Blaine ruts against him, his tongue and teeth relentless, marking him from just under his chin to his collarbone. _

"_Believe me," Blaine rasps, and god if that's not the sexiest sound Kurt has ever had hushed into his ear whilst naked and sated, well on his way to a round two. "I'm getting out of this more than what you think. You're incredible."_

_He's not lying, Kurt can feel how hard Blaine is through the thin fabric of the pajama pants for some reason he's still wearing- pressed up against his stomach and thigh. Blaine pushes himself rhythmically against Kurt, and Kurt can feel himself slowly start to arouse to semi-fullness again. _

_Kurt hasn't felt this turned on in years. He didn't know he still had this amount of stamina left in him, this certainly hasn't happened before with anyone else he has slept with whilst on the upper scale of twenty five years of age._

_Kurt moans rather throatily, it's hard to keep the sound swallowed down and Blaine grins into his skin._

"_Just-just let me go get another condom, for-for you, and then I can help-"_

"_Kurt-" Blaine interrupts, and oh god his name rolling off of Blaine's tongue whilst they're in the middle of this, is like hearing his very own sound-bite of heaven. And then-_

_Blaine steps back, those green-honey-like eyes now clouded darkly, like hot liquid condensed, blinking back at him. _

_Blaine pushes his thumbs under the waistline of Kurt's borrowed pajama pants and teasingly slowly starts to slide them down his hips, and to Kurt's surprised, delighted sexy growl of a gasp discovers that he's gone commando. Blaine's cock springs free, hard and thick and curling at the tip, bouncing back off of his stomach, already leaking a little._

_Blaine takes himself in his own hand and Kurt's mouth actually waters. _

"_Look Kurt," He whispers, "I don't need you to do or go get anything, look at what you're already doing to me." Blaine's voice is low, deep and gruff and oh it's like he's a completely different person to the bashful babbler who was sitting on Kurt's couch earlier that day. _

_Before Kurt can even think coherently enough, he's pushed back up against the wall again, arms and hands restrained in the sexiest of ways, his leg hoisted up once again around Blaine's hip and their cocks meeting with mutual cries of ecstasy, bare flesh on flesh, rubbing and rutting deliciously._

"_Just wanna feel you, that's all." Blaine groans, mouth hanging open, eyes squeezing shut and then snapping open again. "I hope that's ok." He thrusts, bring their groins joined together again and then starts grinding fractionally up and down._

"_Oh Jesus," Kurt pants, now miraculously fully hard again, "Yeah, so ok. So, so ok. Yeah right there, Blaine." He gasps, pulling up on to his toes, circling his hips to get the angle just right. _

_There's a soft scraping noise and Blaine lets out a low chuckle, tipping his chin upwards to look at something above Kurt's head. Just as Kurt feels the soft cool brush of wood against his finger tips, he realizes that they've knocked his framed picture of a lovely calm ocean sunset- off of its hook. _

_Kurt huffs out a laugh as they do nothing about the little mishap apart from wiggle slightly to the side out of the way. In that time Blaine pulls back just enough to look at Kurt deeply, a soft playful smile gracing his beautiful features and he moves into press a sweet kiss to Kurt's lips, then they're off again. _

_Kurt balances his arms and hands on Blaine's broad shoulders, glides his fingers through his sweaty curls, and lets his head fall back against the wall behind with a soft thunk- now clear of hanging objects. _

_Blaine brackets Kurt's body, his hands pressed to the wall at Kurt's sides and rocks forward, harder and faster with each thrust, until he starts whining, sounding almost desperate._

_The room is like a sticky hot steaming meld of oh's and ah's, slick gasps and shuddering breaths. Before long Blaine moves his hands to Kurt's hips, and clings on for what seems like dear life, bending his knees, pushing up on the balls of his feet and grinding his hips and groin rhythmically. _

_Kurt manages a glance downwards, sneaks a peek at Blaine's tight stomach as it rolls, the tiny droplets of sweat forming and cascading down Blaine's chest as it heaves, the tight bulge of his thighs and legs and arms as they work to keep them both upright, powering through._

"_Oh-ah, yeah Kurt, that's it-"_

"_Yes, Blaine yes."_

_Blaine's hips stutter out of rhythm in tiny jolts and Kurt just knows exactly what that means. The thick head of his own cock bobs up and nudges the underside of Blaine's, causing Blaine to yell almost breathlessly._

_Kurt has just enough time to reach down, grab Blaine tightly within his fist and curls his fingers up and down just on time to catch the first spurt of Blaine coming in long white ropes over his hand and both of their stomachs and thighs._

"_Ugghh, K-Kurt, mmm-" Blaine babbles, his hips still churning as the last drops of warm thick liquid seep out of him, slowly bubbling to a stop._

_Blaine drops his head, pants into Kurt's neck and shoulder, mouthing almost soundless words of juicy reverence, licking and sucking teasing relentless kisses into his damp pale skin flushed a rosy pink. He blindly reaches out, his fingers seeking and curling around Kurt's cock, throbbing and pulsing and leaking, needing and wanting-again. _

"_Could-can you-" Blaine starts to ask, his voice deep and low, sleep and sated yet still pitched with excited interest. _

"_Yes, yes, please." Kurt interrupts, jerks forward, pushing himself up into Blaine's fist. It only takes a couple of tight squeezes and strokes until he's pumping his hips against Blaine's and coming for the second time in the space of twenty minutes, with a high pitched whine._

_Kurt sinks to the floor, limp and boneless as he starts to soften, landing in a pile of bent and spent limbs. Blaine goes with him, tucking himself close into Kurt, his legs wrapping around him as best as they can, arms tight around his shoulder blades. _

"_Congratulations." Kurt wheezes, his head slowly rising to catch eyes with Blaine. Both sets of eyes glazed and hooded, hair both black and chestnut ruffled and wild and two shades of skin flushed with colour and damp with sweat._

_Blaine grins, bops Kurt lightly on the chin with a finger and then follows up with his lips. "What?" _

"_You succeeded in your conquest. You have literally knocked me off of my feet. I can't stand." Kurt pants, smirking when he feels Blaine smile into his skin, still pecking light kisses around Kurt's chin and jaw._

"_Good."_

_The air around and between them is musky and thick with sexual release and good clean boy sweat. Their mixture of come is cooling and drying between them, sticking to the light fur of their abdomens, but neither man can even contemplate moving right now._

"_That-this was- it's ok right?" Blaine suddenly says out of nowhere, his voice sounding a little shy and small, and he's suddenly that shy downtrodden cyclist again from all of those hours ago. His gorgeous expressive eyes blink back at Kurt, searching over his face, searching for an answer._

_Kurt lifts a hand and gently palms Blaine's cheek. "Blaine of course this is ok, that was fantastic, more than fantastic."_

_Blaine's grin is face splitting, lighting up everything about him and Kurt giggles with joy. _

"_So we could, we could um-do it-this again, um maybe, sometime?" Blaine manages to stutter out, and god the change in him is unbelievably adorable. _

_The man is literally a gentleman on the streets but a freak in the sheets- oh so Kurt thinks he heard some youthful expression like that-somewhere, somehow. _

"_Well," Kurt starts and Blaine's face falls. Kurt undeterred moulds his facial features and emotions and continues. "I was kind of hoping, wishfully thinking actually, that we could maybe do um this again as the end result of a date maybe?" _

_And just like that Blaine literally glows, his shoulders rising, his arms tightening his hold around Kurt so much that Kurt has to laugh out loud._

"_Oh Kurt, you already have a matinee ticket to the show tomorrow, I mean it's yours if you want it?" Blaine asks, eyes dancing, glowing from the pale beam of moonlight streaming in from the far window where Kurt's blinds are still tilted open slightly. _

_Kurt wriggles, he wants to squirm at the filth of a state he's in right now, but just cant. He's overjoyed. "I-I do?" _

_Blaine nods, beaming. "Front and center. And then I was hoping that maybe you'd accompany me to dinner afterwards?"_

"_Will I see you in a toga?" Blaine laughs and the sound is delectable, Kurt wants to just swallow it up with his mouth. So he tries, leaning in to kiss at Blaine hungrily._

"_Not during tomorrow's show, no. I'll be in the orchestra pit." Blaine whispers around Kurt's lips. _

_Kurt tries to make a pitiful sound but it doesn't work with the way his back arches, just trying to get more of Blaine. _

_Blaine smiles and giggles a bit into Kurt's mouth, "But I could always bring one away with me, you know, for afterwards?"_

"_Deal."_

Kurt feels his cheeks heating as the flashbacks flush through him like a déjà vu. He hears a familiar knock sound from the front door, and Blaine's lovely warming familiar voice calling out his arrival to him.

Kurt smiles, swiping over the wall one last time, kind of preparing it for a reunion of sorts- cause god knows that he's ready for it.

_Fin…_

**A/N- At the moment there is one more chapter planned. To be continued. : )**


	4. Chapter 4-The rise back up to forever

**When we collide- part 4- The rise back up to forever.**

_***AngelatilI **_**said- "love this story! It is so sweet and romantic and hot and sexy, all at the same time!**

**I wouldn't mind reading about the proposal and wedding...I do hope Kurt will be able to come back to the shop and order a cake with a "marital" theme to it :)"***

"Oh hi there, I was so hoping to see you in here again sometime soon-"

The kind elderly lady with grey wispy hair pulled back into a net wrap and a strong British accent- that Kurt had spoken with a few weeks prior- says rather happily. She shuffles out from behind the counter towards Kurt and Blaine when they first enter the shop, patting her flour smudged hands over her powder blue apron.

Kurt grins brightly, his fingers squeezing tighter around Blaine's of their own accord, tugging him forward excitingly.

"And I hope that this is who I think it is," She continues, regarding Blaine warmly, "And that you're both here because of why I think you both might be here." She adds gesturing between the two of them, her face bright and open, and her arms spread out wide like she wants to pull them both into a warm hug.

Kurt giggles a bit, nodding and holding up his left hand which is clinging to Blaine's right, his engagement ring- a simple platinum band sparkling under the ceiling lights and the spotlights from the clear counter display case.

Blaine beams at Kurt and then looks to Mrs Ray of Sunshine, blushing a little (Kurt still loves how Mr Shy Guy stills comes out at times) and holds out his left hand towards the lady in greeting.

"It's lovely to meet you. And thank you for that cheesecake, it was superb." He says, his cheeks pinking and his smile stretching to reach his almost squinting eyes.

The little old dear blushes right back, laughs and coughs behind her hand and accepts Blaine's hand, noticing his own little sparkler sitting proudly on his ring finger while they shake.

"Oh well I was hoping I can make you something better this time. Maybe a raspberry jam sponge, couple of layers, with a couple of figurines all dressed up, standing on top?" She asks, her eyes twinkling and Kurt is thankful that the shop is empty right now.

He wouldn't want to tear up and get all emotional in front of a shop full of hungry sweet tooth's, but what a wonderful, endearing and heartening woman this lady is.

"That sounds, perfect." Kurt manages to say as steady as possible, whilst Blaine rubs his shoulder.

"Ooooh, yes." The lady squeals, clapping her hands together. "Come on now, tell me, how did it happen?"

_Usually an anniversary is of the date of a relationship or something that became official and then on after. _

_For Kurt and Blaine it was the day that they met. That same night, after hours of lovemaking, laughing and endless talking, discussing their plans for dates and trips and numerous random subjects- drifting asleep with Blaine in his arms was a feeling that Kurt would never forget. For Kurt, that is as official as it gets in his eyes. _

"_Blaine, you home?" Kurt calls out, closing the front door behind him as he slowly enters the little entrance porch of their shared London townhouse._

"_Yeah babe. In the dining room." Blaine answers almost instantly, muffled from behind a door down the hallway, his voice a little unsteady like he's just ran a marathon or something, but Kurt knows he had plans to do some sparring after work today. _

_Kurt toes off his shoes, drapes his jacket over a stool and pops his sunglasses on top, all while still carefully holding the box in his hands and just fumbles around in the little entrance hall for a little bit, tidying the scattered paired of shoes into a neat row- some would call it procrastinating, Kurt calls it effectively waiting. _

_When he thinks he's spent enough time turning about in circles in the little room, and that Blaine could come out and find him at anytime and ask what the hell he is doing, Kurt makes his way into the main hallway- that delicate white box still clutched tightly in his white knuckled grasp, he loosens the grip of his fingers slightly, worried about the contents. _

_The hallway is small and dark with wooden furnishings and bright paintings and happy smiley photographs pinned and propped to every available surface. There are four doors in the hallway, one leading to the newly tiled downstairs guest bathroom, and the others leading to the kitchen, living room and dining room-where Blaine is still hiding behind._

_Their home is an old building-newly renovated based in the plush Kensington area of London. It's a gorgeous place with a short easy access to Kensington Gardens- which Kurt takes full advantage of during his commute to and from work, on nice days such as today._

_When Kurt had first moved to London all those years ago, he never would have dreamed that he would be living somewhere like this, but then again he never would have dreamed that he would have met and started such an amazing loving relationship with Blaine-his home away from home. _

_The townhouse is rather spacious with large rooms downstairs to entertain in, a winding carpeted staircase situated in the far corner of the living room and too many bedrooms and bathrooms for just the two of them- and again something that neither man no matter how hard working and successful they had become thought they could ever afford. _

_Blaine's lease for his old place -just a few streets away from Kurt's old flat- was up and ready for renewal last year around the same time that he had been offered a new, bigger and better contract with a different London based Theatre Company. It was for another Musical fresh from Broadway that needed produced and nursed to thrive and boom on the West End. Blaine had been offered and had then accepted the chance straight away. _

_Also around the same time, Kurt had just been head hunted and promoted to senior freelance reporter for the arts and fashion section, of London Now Magazine. Pretty much his dream writing role, he didn't think he'd achieve anything like this even if he was still in New York._

_It was pretty clear that neither man was ready to leave London anytime soon, and after over two years together it had became quite apparent that neither would ever leave –anywhere- without the other._

_It's no secret that they are extremely lucky to be able to call themselves the proud homeowners of this home, but with history of damp and faulty plumbing issues among other minor details blacklisting the property's name- the deposit amount had actually come at a steal. And the location for them was perfect._

_Some would say that signing a joint mortgage after only a two year relationship was a little premature, and they may be right. But why wait? Why spend money on somebody else's property when they could be using the money to put towards a future together? Why waste time in wondering and worrying about the what if's when they can be using the time to plan where their joint desks would get the best natural light?_

_Truth be told, the two had been pretty much living with each other -moving from one man's place to the other, weekend after weekend- since the start of their blossoming romance anyway. They've spent enough time pretty much living in each other's pockets to be able to decide if they're going to bite each others hands and heads off once they sign their names beside each other._

_Let's face it, if you are prepared to sleep on a stranger's couch who you've just met that day, then you're probably pretty set to spend a lifetime together sharing personal space and morning breath and underwear._

_Kurt's flat of course had fond memories for the two, unbelievable, unforgettable, memories which still make Kurt's heart flutter right up through his throat. And he will always hold those memories dear, but with fresh starts and new places to stamp their arrival all over- comes with making new memories, and Kurt is just as excited about that._

_As it happens, having Holly Holiday as a former boss and old time pal and a fairly renowned musical producer for a boyfriend- means that finding workmen eager and happy to help with their little issues and at a good cost, had turned out pretty easy work._

_Kurt secretly, actually loved those first few weeks of moving into the house with Blaine. Waking up too cold with Blaine plastered to his back, breathing out a steam of cold air because their heating had turned itself off over night. Or that time during his morning shower when the hot water had shut off and Kurt screeched and hopped around under the freezing spray, until Blaine had came to his rescue, shutting off the water and bundling Kurt out of the tub with arms full of fluffy towels, kissing him hot again. _

_Painting the house, designing and decorating, placing furniture into the rooms and slowly making an old run-down house into a familiar welcoming home- all with Blaine at his side had been a lovely experience that Kurt would happily do over again and again._

_Buying a house, settling down with Blaine, in London of all places, somewhere so far from his family back in Lima, Ohio USA- should be sort of unsettling and daunting. It's pretty final, a significant confirmation of two lives making a declaration and a promise to each other. _

_Though Kurt- normally somebody who would over analyze and make mountains out of molehills, cannot find it in himself to worry or look too deep or too far. When you just know, you know, and when you have that moment that makes you think 'Oh'- you get the point._

_Kurt balances the cheesecake box between the crook of his elbow and his inner wrist as he twists the knob of the living room door handle open and steps inside. The smell of food, such as grilled meats, hot cheese and tomato sauces, sweetly filled scents, all flare up Kurt's nose as he steps inside, shaking his head slightly but can't keep the smirk from his face._

_Blaine had obviously ignored that morning's orders that it was Kurt's turn to take care of their anniversary dinner and celebrations this year- but hey, if Blaine wants to cook for them then Kurt is not going to argue._

_Kurt sets the box down on the coffee table, placed between a set of two tanned distressed leather loveseats, and it's only then as he's straightens back up that he realizes that he doesn't have a plan for tonight. Not just dinner –even though it smells like it's been taken care of- or the cheesecake, but tonight, as in tonight- the night that Kurt wants to hopefully bump their already solid relationship up that extra notch and conceal it with a ceremony in front of their nearest and dearest, and matching tuxedos and champagne and dancing._

_Kurt's heart pounds in his chest, blood draining from his head it's starts to loll on his shoulders, he quickly slumps himself down in the corner of one of the loveseat before he falls down. _

_He can hear Blaine pottering about through the closed conjoined sliding door leading from the living room straight through to dining room, and Kurt breathes deeply for a few moments, willing himself to calm._

_Why did he think he could just turn up with a freaking cheesecake and propose, just like that?_

"_Kurt, sweetheart? Are you in the living room? Just wait there, I'll be out in a sec." Blaine's voice sounds out from the other side of the partition, still a little shaky and thick like, his tongue is too heavy and big for his mouth. _

_Kurt doesn't have time to wonder what Blaine is up to, only concentrating on the fact that he has extra time to flail, time to choose his words carefully and try and formulate some kind of nice sentiment._

_He'd never thought it would be such big deal. There was a time when he thought he was going to be alone for ever and then after meeting Blaine everything changed, and from the moment Kurt had started thinking about popping question some months ago he'd had to pinned to be this really easy task._

_In a way it is, marrying Blaine will be the easiest thing that Kurt will ever have to do, and he would do it over and over, if given the chance. Life with Blaine has been exciting and fun, pleasurable, comfortable, sometimes a little twisting and tiring especially on the nights after terribly busy and unproductive days, but always full of love and no regrets. Always Easy._

_But now sitting in his living room, with Blaine tucked away on the other side of the house and those four little words sitting waiting on his tongue-it all suddenly seems just that little bit harder._

_There's a little bit of commotion coming from the far side of the sliding dining room door, the sounds of shuffling and light clangs ring out and Kurt is suddenly hit with the thought that none of this has to be hard or daunting or at all._

_It's his third year anniversary with the man that he loves, who swept him off of his feet after Kurt had done the same onto him-quite literally- and when Blaine comes out, Kurt is not going to panic or hurry into it. _

_Kurt will greet him fondly by kissing him senseless, they will eat the dinner that Blaine has prepared and then work on the cheesecake Kurt had bought. Afterwards they will most likely have sex on the dining room table and after when their bodies are cooling down and they're catching their breath, Kurt will ask Blaine the question that's been plaguing his thoughts for a very long time._

_Hopefully Blaine will then say yes, they will have sex again and then start looking for rings online. Easy._

"_Kurt? Will you come in here? Please." Blaine's voice pulls Kurt out from his haze of thoughts, and if on autocue, Kurt stands. _

_Kurt slowly starts to walk over, wiping his palms on the sides of his pants, wondering what actually Blaine is doing through there, and why the wait, and why does he still sound so small and shaky and unsure?_

_Kurt pulls the door back and his breath whooshes out of him all at once, from the sight that is waiting for him._

_Blaine is kneeling before him, wearing an unstrapped cycle helmet on his head and safety pads secured around his knees and elbows, over the top of his navy dress pants and fitted sky blue shirt. _

_His bowtie has tiny little bicycles printed on it and behind him on the table is a spread full of finger picking foods, bowls of dips and cute little pizza pies. _

_They're all the very same items that the two had ate on the day they met, when Kurt had invited him into his home, and unknowingly into his heart._

_There is even a cheesecake, slap bang in the center of the table with what looks to be tyre tracks imprinted in the icing with syrup. Kurt is sensing a pattern here, and he loves it so much that he's stunned to silence._

_They have two cheesecakes now. Two. _

_Kurt blinks back tears from the corner of his eyes, smiling into a slight sob, when Blaine opens up the small little black box carefully cradled in his hands, revealing a beautiful shining piece of jewellery. Very specific finger jewellery._

_Wordlessly, Kurt wipes the tears leaking from his eyes and drops to his knees right in front of Blaine, grinning wildly, already nodding his acceptance as he collapses into Blaine's open arms, the ring box coming round to dig deliciously into his shoulder blade._

_Blaine hooks his chin over Kurt's shoulder, staring back into the living room as they cling on to each other, half sobbing and half laughing blissfully, uncontrollably. _

"_Yes." Kurt whispers into Blaine's ear, squeezing his eyes closed at the feel of the box pressing to his back. "You don't have to say anything. God, it's like you read my mind- Yes, yes please."_

_Blaine's whole body shudders against his, little sniffles and kisses pressed to the side of his head, and then Blaine with a tone of amusement and pure joy and delight murmurs, "Kurt, do-do we have two cheesecakes now?" _

**A/N- Thank you all so much. Lots of love and Happy holidays to you all.**


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